


The Trap I Set For You

by ivanattempts



Category: Peter Pan & Related Fandoms, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Dubcon at one point., Foul Language, M/M, Mental Instability, Multi, Peter Pan AU ahoy!, Probably many other things I'm forgetting., Violence, mormor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 13:48:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivanattempts/pseuds/ivanattempts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Pan AU: Sebastian Moran was one night away from throwing in the towel. One night from locking his window once and for all, and resigning himself to a life of being shot at in the name of the colours to get away from his suffocating, sophisticated life. Might have done it, too, had a very peculiar boy not come sneaking in, in search of something he'd lost. </p><p>My NaNoWriMo entry, finally being put up to be read. As it wasn't written with chapters in mind, do forgive any awkward cut offs, and the wildly varied lengths of the 'chapters'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

All children, except one, grow up-as the story goes, anyway. As it happens, that is not how _this_ story goes. This story begins with one child in particular, if a child he may still be called-one Sebastian Moran, sixteen years of age, in the midst of a shouting match with his father in their residence on Conduit Street. Sebastian’s father was a rigid man, set in his ways, and very disapproving of his only son, and his _wild nature_ , as he often referred to it as. Too active of an imagination. He’d even had him tested once or twice to check the…stability of his mental state, as it were. Sebastian, as it happened, was a perfectly sane boy. Sensible-really, half of the stories he came up with were just to spite his father, these days. He liked to tell them to his sisters, as well, the awful half-wits, the little cooing idiots. Oh, how he disliked them. Thus the stories-daring tales of adventure, of snarling pirates, of dastardly villains, murder, violence. Tales to worry them away from dreamland, to keep them up, mewling, frightened.

                He’d never admit he longed for the stories to be true.

                The argument ended as it always did-with a slam of his door, and his father shouting about disowning him if he kept such up. That it was unbefitting of a boy of his status in the world-status, hah! As if Sebastian cared. Let his father deal with the pomp and frill of aristocracy. As for himself, he intended to enlist the moment he was old enough; that’d show the old man! And maybe he’d get some of that pent-up aggression out too, put it towards something worthwhile, as the therapist had told him. What the hell did she know, though? Sebastian toed off his shoes-muddied boots, which had been the start of this night’s row-and threw himself onto his bed, flinging an arm over his eyes. A touch melodramatic, perhaps, but everyone had their limits, and his father was quite testing his. After a moment, he turned his head to look at his bookcase, stuffed with all kinds of literature-books on wild game, books on the tactics of war, books on mathematics, books on physics, books on grammar.  And of course, being the age he was, there were the less than decent magazines stuffed beneath and between untouched volumes of some rot or other his mum had brought for his sisters, and had gotten shoved in with his things when it was realized they were a bit too mature for the younger daughters. None of these, however, were what he was looking for. Instead, he was searching for a worn copy of a story he knew all too well: _Peter Pan._ It was the basis, after all, for all the nightmarish tales he fed to his siblings-he’d pick a chapter, and twist it into something dark, something more befitting his older tastes and mindset.

                Upon spotting it, he rolled out of bed and moved over, snagging it before settling back onto the mattress, stretching out, long limbs splaying across the sheets. Thumbing through the pages a little lazily, Sebastian eventually found himself reading the book for…God, how many times had it even been now? He’d lost count, honestly. It was stupid of course. The entire book, the whole ideal of it. Utter trash, honestly. There wasn’t a place called Neverland. He’d never be picked up by some oddly-dressed prat and his fairy friend. He’d have to grow up, like everyone else-he’d go off to war and shed blood for Queen and country, maybe even die, just for a little of the excitement he found in the stories.

                Well, that just wasn’t fair.

                Sebastian’s lip curled in distaste, in anger at the book, and all the false promises it held, in all the hope he’d held out for all those years, all those nights leaving the window open, hoping-his entire boyhood he’d waited, waited, and for what?

                The book made a loud thump as he threw it across the room, and he turned his back on it, ignoring the breeze from his window. He should just close it. It was getting cool out. He’d catch a cold from leaving that window open every night, like his mother fussed about. He turned his head, shifting his body as if to clamber off of the bed to do so, but…paused. Stopped. Finally, he simply swore softly to himself and drew his covers up around himself, still fully clothed, and turned his back on the window once more.

                Fine. One more night wasn’t going to change anything.


	2. Chapter 2

The window was silent as it swung inwards, and the dark-haired boy stood poised lightly on the windowsill, peeking around warily.

                “Richard!” It was hissed out between his teeth, and he took a cautious step into the room, glancing over at the figure curled in the bed-a boy a bit older than him, verging on adulthood.

                _Boring!_

                He peered around the dark spaces of the room, eyes narrowed. He had to be in here somewhere. It was around here that he'd lost him, he was quite sure of it. “Richard!” He rounded on a patch of shadow suddenly, taking a threatening step towards it-ah, that got a rise out of him! His shadow jerked, frightened, and tried to scurry away. He hastened after it, hands coasting the walls, trying to catch hold of it. It squirmed just out of reach, hiding on top of a wardrobe. “Richard! Richard, get back here right _now!_ You just wait until I catch you, I’ll-” He brought a foot up, placing it on what appeared to be a fairly sturdy bookshelf, and hoisted his weight up-only for the bookshelf to topple over with a crash.

                Well, that had not gone as planned.

                As the boy tried to unbury himself from the books, and his shadow laughed at him from the wall, that lump on the bed started, stirred from its cocoon, and sat up, drawing a pistol from beneath his pillow. A pistol which the stranger on the floor found himself staring down the barrel of.

                Well, that had _really_ not gone as planned.

                “Who the fuck are you?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Who.The fuck. Are you?”

                Sebastian repeated himself through clenched teeth when the strange boy in his floor didn’t immediately answer.  He listened, tilting his head-the sounds didn’t appear to have woken anyone else in the house, which was good, but a gunshot most certainly would. So, with any luck, he’d not have to shoot-though, it could be fun. He had plenty of an excuse to at this point.

                The other seemed to be casting around, looking for a way to explain himself, and finally, his eyes landed on the discarded book Sebastian had thrown earlier in the night. Very slowly, carefully, he extricated himself from the pile of books and moved over to the tattered story, holding it up; his lips quirked up into a queer little smile that made Sebastian terribly uneasy.

                “Peter Pan?”

                “What about it?”

                “No, I mean, would you believe me if I said…I’m Peter Pan.”

                “Not for a goddamn second.”

                There was a click as Sebastian took the safety off of the pistol, cold eyes narrowed. The boy shrugged and tossed the book a little carelessly aside, which made Sebastian’s lips twitch in displeasure.

                “Oh well, ‘twas worth a shot anyway.  How about we trade? You don’t get something for nothing, you know.”

                _Is he being serious?_ Sebastian looked the stranger over slowly; he was dressed in what might have been a boy’s school uniform once upon a time, but was now well-worn, the white dress shirt slightly unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up. His hair looked as if it had been slicked back, but was ruffled from his fight with the bookcase. There were patches on his trousers, which looked like they had once been very expensive-the patches were of a dark fabric, at least, so as to make them less noticeable.

                “When you’re quite done ogling me, I’m still waiting for your name.”

                “Sebastian Moran.”

                “What a mouthful. Sebby will do. I’m Jim.”

                “Sebby? Like hell.”

                The boy-Jim-was looking at him with raised eyebrows now, as if daring him to object a second time.“Problem?”

                Sebastian hesitated, then narrowed his eyes, slowly lowering the pistol, clicking the safety back into place. “…no. Jim, then?”

                “Excellent attention to detail you’ve got.”

                _What a little snot._

“So, Jim, why the fuck are you breaking into my room in the middle of the night?”

                “ _Breaking in_ is a touch harsh, don’t you think? You _did_ leave the window open. Bit of an open invitation if you ask me. Which you just did.”

                Oh God, he was getting sick of this boy already. Fine. A bit of rephrasing was perhaps in order.

                “Fine. Why are you here, then?”

                “Lost something of mine.”

                “In my bedroom?”

                “You leave your window open quite often, don’t you? You shouldn’t. All sorts of ruffians about these days. Plus, you might catch cold.”

                “You sound like my mum.”

                “I shudder at the thought.”

                Sebastian smirked at that. Alright, maybe he wasn’t _all_ bad. But he had still broken into his bedroom, which was purely unacceptable.

                “So, what did you lose?”

                “…my shadow.”

                “Stop fucking with me.”

                Jim’s look was resigned, as if even he was annoyed by the cliché of it.

                “…you’re serious.”

                “Unfortunately.”

                “You lost your bloody shadow.”

                “That I did.”

                “Like Peter fucking Pan.”             

                “I don’t think Peter ever had a middle name.”

                The chuckle surprised him, and surprised Jim as well, but had them both grinning as Sebastian laughed. This was…this was ridiculous. Gas must be leaking into the house or something, he was obviously not in his right mind. Jim, some oddball of a boy, had snuck through his second-story bedroom window, crashed through his room in search of…his _shadow._

                “I don’t believe this.”

                “Of course you don’t. You’re just about a proper adult now, aren’t you?”

                Something in the boy’s words absolutely dripped with condescension, and Sebastian found himself tensing, winding up like he always did before an argument with his father.

                “I am not.”

                That had Jim quirking a brow, interested now.

                “Aren’t you though? Look at you, just about ready to move out by the looks of you. You’ll be a proper adult soon.”

                “You’re hardly younger than me. What do you call yourself?”

                Jim hesitated, then shrugged, lips sliding into a slow smile. “A Lost Boy.”

                “Then that’s what I am.”

                “You are not.”

                Something about the sudden retort made Sebastian’s stomach sink, made his insides twist. It rang with rejection, with denial. Jim noted the look on his face, almost…childish, in the sheer devastation in it.

                Well. Maybe Sebastian wasn’t quite an adult yet after all.

                “…you’re not a Lost Boy, Sebby,” he drawled, turning on his heel to eye the shadow still perched atop Sebastian’s wardrobe. “Not _yet_. You’ve got to come to Neverland to be a Lost Boy.”

                “Neverland.”

                “Do you want to go?”

                “Yes.”

                The answer was immediate, thoughtless, and Jim turned to grin at him, nodding some-and something in his expression made a strange sort of hope well up in Sebastian. Something he couldn’t place, or name. Something he’d never expected. Jim gestured at the wardrobe.

                “Right then. First things first, we’ve got to get Richard back where he’s supposed to be.”

                “Richard?”

                “My shadow. An awful coward, he is. Runs off all the time.”

                Sebastian’s eyes slid to shadow, and he laughed, standing.

                “Alright then. I can bag a tiger, I can bag a shadow.”


	4. Chapter 4

As it happened, this was much easier said than done. It was almost comical the way the two of them chased the shadow-Richard-around his room, until they had him cornered beneath the bed, Sebastian holding his emptied out schoolbag, Jim waving an arm in the space beneath the bed, trying to urge the shadow out. It took several attempts to actually catch him, wriggling in Jim’s grasp, trying to get free again; still, the struggle seemed good-natured, and Jim, it appeared, was trying fairly hard to fake annoyance.

                “Got you now, haven’t I?”

                Sebastian arched an eyebrow and smiled, relaxing against his bed and watching as Jim tried-unsuccessfully-to attach the feet of the shadow to the soles of his shoes, nearly worn through, it looked like. After a few attempts, he huffed and crossed his arms, dragging Richard upside down by the one leg he still had hold of.

                “What are you trying to do?”

                “I have to get him attached, or he’ll just wander off again.”

                “Attached? How so?”

                “Well, we used glue last time, but it’s worn off.”

                “Glue?”

                “Yeah. Do you have any?”

                “Uh…Don’t think so.”

                Still, he found himself casting about, glancing around his now semi-trashed room, trying to think of something, anything that could help Jim re-attach his shadow. Before long, his eyes settled on a small sewing kit his mother had given him; she’d gotten an extra somehow, and thought it might be useful for him to at least learn to sew buttons back onto his own shirts. He snagged the small case up, leaning back and cracking it open. After a few tries, he managed to get some thread through the eye of the needle, and he held it up with a grin. “Will this do? We’ll just sew him back on! See him run off then!”

                Jim eyed the needle and thread a little skeptically, but offered up the sole of his shoe, foot and shadow included. “Alright, give it a go, then. Poke me with that needle, though, and we’ll have a problem.”

                Sebastian rolled his eyes, but carefully began to sew the shadow to the sole of Jim’s shoe. He worked slowly, carefully, until Jim was fidgeting in place; and the moment he was finished, he switched and did the same to the other foot. Once all the stitches were in place, Jim stood up, shook his feet a little in the direction of the wall, until Richard began to mirror him properly once more.

                “Well, what do you know. You _are_ good for something, Sebby!”

                “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

                “Aw, don’t take it personally. I assume everyone is worthless until proven otherwise.”

                “You’re a little bundle of sunshine, aren’t you.”

                “And you like to state the obvious.”

                Sebastian sat with his knees pulled to his chest now, arms looped around them, head tipped almost lazily to watch the other boy, who seemed to be enjoying miming at his shadow on the wall. Had it really just been running around his room? That was…unthinkable. Beyond imaginable. It seemed normal enough now…Until, that was, its head turned to-Sebastian could only assume-watch him watching it. And then, of its own volition, it lifted its hand in a friendly wave that startled him.

                “I think he likes you.”

                Sebastian blinked a little, turning his eyes back to Jim.

                “It waved at me.”

                “ _He_ waved at you, yes. He does that.”

                “This is insanity.”

                Jim sighed heavily, staring hard at Sebastian, lips tilting down in a displeased pout.

                “Are you _sure_ you’re not an adult yet? You sure talk like one.”

                That sinking feeling was back, and Sebastian took a moment before responding, gathering himself. Alright. So a weirdo in a worn-out school uniform had just crawled into his bedroom window, looking for his shadow, which Sebastian had helped him chase down. They’d just sewed his shadow to his feet.  That shadow had just waved at him.

                What was more, there was still that offer.

                “So, Neverland.”

                “What about it?” Jim turned to look at Sebastian again, as if the statement confused him.

                “You said we would go.”

                “No I didn’t.”

                “You did!”

                “I asked if you _wanted_ to go. I never once said I would take you.”

                “Why you-” Sebastian was on his feet in an instant, furious. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was being teased. He’d waited years, most of his life in fact, for this moment, only for this little brat to say _no_?

                That was _not_ going to cut it.

                He rounded on Jim, advanced on him without hesitation, which seemed to catch the other boy off-guard; he seemed equally surprised when Sebastian’s fingers wrapped in the front of his shirt and snatched him up, hauling him off his feet and shoving him against a wall, briefly winding him.

                “You’re going to take me!”

                “I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do, Sebby. You and all the king’s horses and men couldn’t make me do a thing I didn’t want to.”

                There was something in Jim’s voice, something smooth and cool and calm that made Sebastian instantly recognize the words as truth. His grip loosened just a little, just enough to allow Jim’s feet to touch the floor once more-the boy was grinning now, and there was something wild in that look, something almost manic. Something delightful, something that promised adventures the likes of which he’d not crafted in his most creative bedtime stories.

                “…please.”

                It was barely a breath on his lips, muttered through clenched teeth, his eyes locking on Jim’s, whose features were twisting with an odd sort of pleasure.

                “What was that?”

                “Take me with you. Please. To…to Neverland.”

                Jim looked him over, and for a long moment, it seemed he might reject him; and then, slowly, he shrugged his shoulders, dipping his head in a small sign of acknowledgement.

                “Are you sure? It’s not the same as your storybooks, you know. Things have…changed.”

                There was an odd note to his voice as he said the word, and his lips twitched upward, something flashing through his eyes. He looked almost…proud? Sebastian didn’t dwell on it, immediately ducking his head in a quick nod.

                “I’m sure.”

                Jim was quiet for another long moment, then nodded, squirming out of his grip.

                “Fine. But I’m not carrying you. I’ll need to call in a favor.”

                Sebastian arched an eyebrow, but watched quietly as Jim made his way across the room; he moved as if to protest when Jim threw open the window, reaching out as if to stop him-panic flashed through him, and in that instant, he worried that Jim would leave him behind. Instead, he brought his fingers to his lips, and let out a long, sharp whistle.

                For a minute or so, nothing happened, and Sebastian arched an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. What was Jim waiting fo-

                “Jesus Christ.”

                “Actually, her name is Irene. Much prettier.Sharper of tongue, too.”

                Irene, Sebastian realized immediately, but could not immediately comprehend, was a fairy. She was small, very small, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, and sported long hair pulled back into a tight bun. She was a vision painted in porcelain white skin, dark hair, and red, red lips. Her dress matched her red slash of a mouth, and she settled in Jim’s hand with a look that made it very clear he should be thankful to be in her presence-that they both should. She hardly spared Sebastian a glance, but smiled at Jim in a way that made Sebastian think of bad mafia movies, complete with slit throats and concrete shoes.

                “Irene, I need you to do something.”

                There was a tinkle from the woman that Sebastian, with his lack of knowledge in the language of the fey, thought rather similar to a long-suffering sigh.

                “Oh, don’t give me that. You do still owe me, remember?”

                An indignant tinkle. He guessed.

                “Ah-ah. Don’t play that game with me. I’ll not have it.”

                A grudging tinkle.

                “Better. See Sebby here? He’s coming home with us.”

                The fairy turned her head as if just now acknowledging Sebastian’s existence, and frowned. She then promptly crossed her arms and shook her head.

                “What?” Jim’s tone was sharp, annoyed.

                She shook her head again.

                Jim narrowed his eyes, then tightened his fingers around her, turning to Sebastian and grinning as she struggled.

                “Close your eyes, and I wouldn’t suggest inhaling this stuff.”

                Sebastian was about to question what he meant, until he saw Jim raise the fairy and prepare to shake her.

                Right then. He closed his eyes; the dust felt a bit like…feathers, so soft and light he barely knew it was there. Ticklish, almost, coating his skin. He opened his eyes through the last of it, watched it shimmer through the air, and laughed at the fairy’s furious noises. Jim finally let her go, and she rounded on Sebastian, who held his hands up defensively.

                “Oi, don’t look at me, I didn’t shake you.”

                Irene dove, snatched at his hair, and he swatted at her, growling.

                “Get rid of your pet, Jim!”

                A quick laugh greeted that request.

                “Funny, she’s saying much the same thing.”


	5. Chapter 5

After another round of hair-pulling and hapless swatting, Sebastian managed to hit himself in the face, which seemed to satisfy the fairy well enough, and left him rather disgruntled as she waltzed her way up Jim’s arm to settle on his shoulder as if she owned it. Jim, for his part, completely ignored her and brushed his hands together as if they had gotten dirty, looking over to the other boy.

“Right then. Ready to go?”

“To Neverland?”

“No, to the little shop down the street to pick up some sweets.” Jim’s tone was heavy with sarcasm, and Sebastian was given a deadpan look . “Yes, of course to Neverland.”

Sebastian rolled his shoulders in a vague shrug, frowning at the book. “So, what, happy thoughts and off we flit? Second star to the right and whatnot, eh?” Why was Jim looking at him like that? He seemed…surprised. And not pleasantly surprised. Something flashed in his eyes, something that Sebastian couldn’t place, but didn’t like. What was more unnerving, perhaps, was the way that Jim tilted his head, slowly, very slowly one way, and then just as slowly the other, a steady oscillation that reminded Sebastian entirely too much of the manner in which a snake might weave its head before striking. Jim did not, in fact, attack him, which Sebastian decided very quickly might actually have been preferable.

Instead, he moved over to the window and pushed it open, expression unreadable now.

“Something like that. Off you pop then.”

“Out the window?”

Sebastian approached cautiously, standing in front of the opening to look outside. The night air was cool in his lungs, and a light breeze made the curtains dance beside him, tickling his arm. His natural reaction had him leaning slightly out, balanced on his toes, peering down; it was quite a drop from his bedroom to the ground. Was Jim being serious? Would…would it really work? He wasn’t sure if he could muster up any happy thoughts, honestly, unless getting away from his father counted…

He didn’t have long to worry about it. The firm push of a hand between his shoulder blades unbalanced him and made the decision for him, sending him toppling forward out of the window, hurtling towards the ground he’d been staring at only a moment before. He swore, but the word was snatched from his lips as quickly as it was spoken, and he twisted to stare up, up at Jim who was leaning out, watching him with a sick sort of joy.

_I’m going to die._

Time seemed to slow, and the revelation hit him suddenly; his expression twisted, furious. No. No, he couldn’t die, not yet, not now. Not when he’d come so close. All those years waiting, and finally, some semblance of hope, only to die by getting pushed out of a window-

Getting pushed out of a window.

He’d been pushed out of a fucking window. This, this was real. The stinging of the wind against his bare arms, the way it whistled past his ears, Jim’s laughter from above him, the light just to the left of his head, shimmering and red…

Neverland. Fairy dust. Flight.

It was real. All of it. It was real, and happening, and there was no way in hell he was going to die before he got to see every damned bit of it. Sebastian clenched his jaw, closed his eyes, and tried to relax-he was more likely to survive that way, and fun as it would be to leave a messy corpse behind for his father to have to deal with, he wasn’t ready to kick the metaphorical bucket, as it were. Not yet. Mentally, he tried to prepare for impact, twisted his body to maybe hit his shoulder instead of his head, and then-

There was no wind rushing past his ears. The realization forced his eyes open, and he blinked, nose inches from his yard. He was…floating.

_Flying._

Awkwardly, he twisted, tried to adjust to the odd sensation, got used to the way his body worked while suspended in the air. It was an oddly weightless feeling, like swimming, but…well, without the water. It wasn’t a perfect comparison, obviously, but it was the first thing that came to mind; he finally managed to orient himself with much flailing, frowning up at Jim, who was clutching his sides with laughter at this point. He seemed to notice that Sebastian had begun to figure it out, though, and was leaning out of the window-his voice drifted down, playful and smug.

“Oi, Romeo! Get your arse up here, we’ve a long way to go! Straight on ‘til morning and all that!”

“If you’re going to make allusions, you could at least do the scene some justice.” Sebastian muttered, rolling his eyes. “How exactly does one get their arse anywhere like this?”

“You flap your arms and quack like a duck.”

“I’ll throttle you once I figure out how to get up there.”

“Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep!”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. After a few moments of experimenting he seemed to get the hang of it, eventually cautiously drifting up, as if afraid of flipping himself and falling-the former of which he did manage, coming to a stop upside down in front of Jim, who was howling with laughter again. It grated on his nerves to the point of snapping, and Sebastian reached forward suddenly, yanking Jim out of the window and startling the fairy from his shoulder; unlike Sebastian, Jim only fell about halfway before changing directions midair, graceful as a fish in the ocean, whereas he, himself, was about as graceful as a fish tossed unceremoniously into the bottom of a boat, flopping and flailing, and trying to get himself sorted out in this new element.

Jim was grinning, and despite his previous anger, Sebastian found himself grinning back.

“Straight on ‘til morning, then?”

There was that odd look again; Sebastian wondered what it was that kept triggering it, that strange displeasure in Jim’s eyes. He found himself slightly ashamed of the breathless excitement in his own voice, felt a bit childish for it-but…wasn’t that rather the point of this all? Slowly, Jim’s lips split in a smile that frankly made his blood run cold in his veins, ice settling over his insides.

“Straight on ‘til morning, and then some.Neverland has undergone some…renovations. I do hope you’ll like what I’ve done with the place.”

There was an uneasy tinkle from the fairy that excited a strange anxiety in him. Renovations? What did he mean?

“At any rate, you can’t turn back now. You can come with me, or I can…escort you away.”

There was something threatening in the words, and all at once, Sebastian knew exactly what he meant; he knew the book well enough, of course. The stories of children, escorted into death so as to not be frightened…The ice covering his insides solidified, made him feel heavy, and for a moment, he felt like he might drop out of the sky.

“…but that’s not going to happen. I’ve full confidence you’ll make a right and proper Lost Boy of yourself yet, Sebastian.”

The smile he was offered was different this time, and the ice inside of him cracked, fell away, melted into a spreading warmth that made him feel lighter even than before.

“Sir yes, sir.”

“Sir? Don’t call me that. It’s such an _adult_ term. Jim it is, and Jim will do.”

Sebastian nodded his understanding, and for a moment, they stayed where they were, sizing each other up, grinning like idiots. Jim broke the standoff, pushing Sebastian suddenly and racing off.

“Lost Boy game number one! Tag! Catch me if you can!”

Sebastian gaped after the other boy, shocked, before casting only one glance back at his room, the window still flung wide. Without a second thought, he kicked off of the window sill and shot off after Jim, the wind stealing the laughter from his lips as quickly as it bubbled up.


End file.
